


Death Comes As The End

by telperion_15



Category: Primeval
Genre: Gen, Presumed Dead, Survival
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-29
Updated: 2012-01-29
Packaged: 2017-10-30 07:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/329278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/telperion_15/pseuds/telperion_15
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Injured and alone, Maguire has to get home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death Comes As The End

**Author's Note:**

> A note about OCs:  
> Primeval fandom on LiveJournal has generated a number of fanon OCs, created by different authors and freely used by others, to the extent that some of them have now taken on lives of their own. The ones that appear in this fic, Maguire, Davis, Jacobs, Anders, Rees and Carter, belong to me.

Benjamin Maguire groaned and rolled over, raising a hand to swipe detritus from his face. Somewhere in the back of his mind he made a mental note to talk to Professor Cutter about his fondness for the Permian. There was entirely too much sand, dust, and grit here for Maguire’s liking.

However, that was no more than a passing thought. The majority of his attention was taken up with the waves of pain that were suddenly assailing him. He gritted his teeth until they started to die down a bit, and then tried to assess the damage.

One, his ankle felt like it was swollen, and when he tried to wiggle it, needles of red hot pain shot up his leg. Two, his chest was on fire. It hurt to breathe, and as he felt his tac vest with his hand he realised it was hanging open, and damp and sticky with blood. And three, his head was pounding like a son of a bitch. And when he tried to sit up the world span alarmingly, leaving him feeling weak and nauseous.

Taking a few deep breaths, he tried again, and finally managed to get himself into a semi-upright position, one hand cradling his head, the other pressed against his chest where blood was still oozing sluggishly.

Where the fuck was Rees? Come to think of it, where the fuck was _anyone_? A cold feeling settled in the pit of his stomach. They wouldn’t just have left him behind. And that meant…

Shit.

Squinting around, Maguire tried to find any sign of his team-mates’ presence. But the only thing he could see were some footsteps in the dirt. Leading away from him, back towards the anomaly.

Maguire struggled to remember how far it was to the anomaly site. His brain didn’t seem to be working all that well, but eventually he came up with the figure of two kilometres. Yes, that sounded about right.

Obviously, some of the others – however many of them were left – had headed in that direction. But why hadn’t they taken him with them? And had they made it in time?

He had no choice. If he wanted to find out what was going on, he would have to head back to the anomaly himself. Experimentally, he wiggled his ankle again. It was still bloody painful, but it didn’t _feel_ broken. But he supposed he would find out for sure when he put some weight on it.

Getting to his feet was an ordeal he didn’t ever want to have to go through again. The effort left him feeling even more nauseous than before, and he couldn’t stop himself from vomiting, the convulsive retching making his chest hurt even more.

Fuck. Two kilometres? In the state he was in it might as well be two hundred. But he had to make it. It was that or give up.

And Benjamin Maguire didn’t give up.

When the anomaly finally hove into view, he thought it was the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. It had taken him three hours to drag his broken and aching body across the harsh Permian landscape, and every moment had been agony. Only the fear that the route back home might close up and leave him stranded here had stopped him from resting.

His injured leg was shaking with every step, and his chest – although it had stopped bleeding – hurt as he breathed. He was no expert, but he thought he might have a couple of broken ribs, at least. He also suspected he was running a fever. The Permian might be hot and dry, but surely that couldn’t account for _all_ the heat he felt emanating from his skin. Particularly as he was probably also dehydrated.

But the anomaly was still open, like a beacon calling to him, and summoning one last burst of effort, he scrambled down the hill towards it, all but falling through the sparkling shards of light into the cool autumn air of the Forest of Dean.

“Bloody hell!”

Blearily, Maguire looked round to find Lieutenant Malcolm Davis regarding him as if…well, as if he’d seen a ghost.

“What the fuck is going on, Mal?” he managed to grind out, using every ounce of willpower he still possessed to keep from falling over right there and then.

“”You’re supposed to be bloody dead!” Davis suddenly realised that might not have been the most tactful thing to say, and hastily continued, “Are you okay, mate?”

“Do I bloody look okay?” Maguire snapped.

“Shit. Sorry. Look, come and sit down. I’ll get Jacobs and the others back here, pronto.”

Gratefully, Maguire lowered himself on to a nearby tree stump, accepting the canteen of water Davis passed to him with his good hand and gulping the cool, clean liquid down as fast as he was able. Dimly, he was aware of Davis speaking quickly into his radio, ending with the words, “…and for god’s sake, bring a stretcher!”

“Just sit tight,” Davis continued. “They’ll be here in a few minutes. Jesus, Ben, they really thought you were dead!”

“What happened?” asked Maguire painfully. His memory was annoyingly fuzzy. “I can’t remember anything after we went through the anomaly.”

“You had a run-in with a Gorgonopsid,” replied Davis. “Captain Jacobs said it was pretty pissed off about something, and decided to take it out on you.”

“It certainly did that,” said Maguire, coughing slightly as the pain in his ribs flared again. “What about the others – they okay?”

“They’re fine,” Davis replied shortly. “See for yourself.”

Turning slowly, Maguire saw the rest of his unit hurrying towards them down the forest track. Jacobs and Anders were in front, with Rees and Carter following behind carrying a stretcher. As soon as they saw Maguire they all came to a shocked halt.

“Fuck me!” said Anders succinctly.

“Lieutenant!” Captain Jacobs rebuked him. He turned to Rees. “I thought you said he was dead?”

“I thought he _was_ ,” said Rees. He looked horrified by his mistake, and quickly hurried forward to assess Maguire’s injuries.

Jacobs followed, kneeling down beside Maguire to speak to him quietly. “I’m sorry, Ben,” he said softly. “We didn’t have a choice. Rees barely had time to take your pulse before the bastard creature decided it wanted a piece of us, too. We thought you were dead, and we had to get the professor and the others back safely.”

“We were just kitting up to come back for your b…for you…when Mal radioed us,” put in Anders.

“Fuck, Ben, I’m really, _really_ sorry,” said Rees. “I should have tried harder…” He looked thoroughly miserable, and Maguire tried to reassure him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Matt,” he said gently. “You couldn’t have known.” He tried to smile, although he suspected it might have come out as more of a grimace. “Just work your usual magic patching me up and we’ll say all is forgiven, yeah?”

“Well, I don’t know about magic – I’m going to need a bloody miracle!” Rees grumbled, his medical persona settling over him like a shield as he examined Maguire’s wounds. “You haven’t exactly done a stellar job at not making this worse, Ben.”

“Well, next time, you try dragging yourself over two kilometres of Permian desert with a busted ankle, ripped chest, and spinning head, and see how you do, okay?”

“I’d rather _no one_ tried that again in the near future,” said Jacobs sternly. He stood up and beckoned to Carter. “Bring that stretcher over here. No arguments,” he said sharply to Maguire, who had opened his mouth in protest. “You’re getting on that stretcher, and that’s an end to it. Don’t try and be a bloody hero,” he finished quietly.

A sharp jab of pain in the region of his ankle abruptly convinced Maguire that maybe the stretcher wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all, and he acquiesced passively, trying not to cry out at the unfortunate but necessary discomfort involved in getting him on his back.

And as Anders and Carter carried him back to the vehicles, and Rees fussed over him, Maguire realised what a narrow escape he’d had, and silently blessed whoever had allowed him survive.

This time.


End file.
